


Hug

by Lovefushsia



Series: The Lying Detective (shorts) [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e02 The Lying Detective, Hug Scene (Sherlock: The Lying Detective), I love them so much, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Series 4 Spoilers, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovefushsia/pseuds/Lovefushsia
Summary: The hug.





	

_John_

Shoulders shaking, heaving under the gentle pressure of his palm. Hair so soft under his cheek he had to turn his face oh-so-slowly, let it brush against his skin. The soft hairs of John’s neck underneath his finger tips, smooth, warm skin. He closed his eyes, breathed in as slowly as possible - the scent of shampoo, coconut, new and yet as if it had always belonged with John’s own scent, enhancing rather than masking. Sherlock would know it anywhere. But to be this close...

His breath caught and he held John close, dipped his chin a little more, just enough to be able to press his lips to the top of John’s head, where he wouldn’t feel it. But Sherlock felt it, the swirling of textures and colours in his mind, the touch of such softness to lips which did more talking than anything else. He kept all of this way, way down for good reason - because why would he need this? But it was bubbling up, making his head spin.

Shirt damp against his chest now, he craved it... the transparent release from such a man as this. And all for him? Surely not - this must all be imagined. John, the real John surely left minutes ago. He opened his eyes again.

_John_

In his arms, pressed against his chest, allowing Sherlock to hold him, not only to see the breakdown of his self-control but to feel it. He couldn’t bear it, his own tears were close and only the pain in his head made them stay unshed.

His hand on John’s arm, tentative, stroking up and back down, soft and slow for such a delicate task. Had he ever had need, or want, to use his hands in this way? To comfort his love, to hold fast to something he was desperate for? No. Surely a first.

_John_

His breaths were becoming calmer, Sherlock wanted an end to John’s pain but couldn’t bear the moment to be over - he would have to let go. He didn’t want to do that. Not again.

He splayed his fingers, carefully where they touched John’s neck, memorising it all. This was it. John took a shuddering breath and cleared his throat, eased up against Sherlock’s hand – Sherlock withdrew in an instant. John’s face was still covered by his other hand. Head still lowered as he wiped at his face. _Show me, please, let me help you._

“Shit,” John finally whispered, voice quavering, and he looked up and noticed Sherlock’s shirt front. “I’m sorry, your shirt-”

Sherlock followed John’s eyes, shrugged. “Barely noticed,” he murmured. He looked to his left hand – touching. With a final press and release of his fingers, he let it slip away, took a step back and waited.

Another slight cough, nervous, apprehensive. Sherlock wished John didn’t have to do that with him. But it was early days. “Thank you,” John said.

And now Sherlock was clearing his throat, awkwardly turning away, itching for something to do with his hands, wanting to reach back for John, to embrace him again. But he could only manage a soft, “Any time, John.”


End file.
